


Day 3 - Scars

by rainofgrenades



Series: Sheith Month 2017 [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Smut, Fluff, Foreplay, Implied Sexual Content, Love, Love Bites, M/M, Scars, Self Confidence Issues, kinda nsfw, reassurance, there's everything in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 16:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainofgrenades/pseuds/rainofgrenades
Summary: His mouth presses on my right shoulder and I can feel his teeth ready to close, dominant and desperate.I want him to do it, to declare his property and need on me.But he doesn’t bite. He gasps, head jerking back, grey, wide eyes staring at the mark he didn’t impress on me.He looks guilty.





	Day 3 - Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Third day at full force, I didn't think I would be able to keep up!  
> Fanart for this #SheithMonth fic: http://space-mull3t.tumblr.com/post/163793506089/inspired-by-rainofgrenades-s-fanfic

**S** hiro’s lips always tasted like Heaven on mine.  
  
Shiro’s hands always found the perfect spot to touch.  
  
Shiro’s words always sounded perfect in my ears.  
  
“Keith…” the way he calls my name always means something. I can hear it behind the syllables, behind the letters and the sounds, and right now my name means _desire_ , whispered between wet kisses.  
  
I answer, a choked sound leaving my mouth as I manage to get rid of my shirt, tossing it on the floor near Shiro’s. I like to see our clothes thrown together without any care, I like to measure the distance between every piece of fabric, calculating the amount of passion driving us every time.  
I like to get immediately back at him, my wet tongue mewling on his skin tracing his collarbone, while my hands wander on his back feeling the scars I know by heart.  
I like the way he presses me on the wall.  
  
“Fuck” it’s one of the most high-pitched words I always get to steal from him, for now just moving my hips and pressing lightly on his erection. I’m sure he won’t make me wait too much, this time. I also sometimes hate his tight pants.  
  
“As in ‘Fuck me, Sir’?” I burn bright red at my own sentence, our game still embarrassing me a bit even if I know how he loves to be called like that.  
  
His mouth presses on my right shoulder and I can feel his teeth ready to close, dominant and desperate.  
I want him to do it, to declare his property and need on me.  
  
But he doesn’t bite. He gasps, head jerking back, grey, wide eyes staring at the mark he didn’t impress on me.  
He looks guilty.  
  
“…what’s up?” my left hand rises, reaching for his hair and gripping a bit.  
  
“I-…sorry, I didn’t mean to-…” I don’t like that look on his face. Something is off.  
  
“…to bite me like you usually do?” Shiro always bites me during sex, it had never been a problem. We both like it, and I usually repay Shiro’s bites with my own.  
  
“…not there.” Shiro looks away, still avoiding my eyes, and my head turns, confused, searching for the cause of that delay in my deserved sex. I hate delays. Especially in sex.  
  
And there it is, almost looking back at me, the white, broad scar with its chipped, rough edges.  
The scar of the Trials of Marmora.  
  
My surprised expression lasts only for a second, then I move close again to Shiro’s skin, softly biting his neck, my eyes closing to focus on his taste.  
“I don’t mind. It doesn’t hurt. You can-…”  
  
“I can’t” there’s no trace of doubt in his words. As usual. And he won’t come back to our foreplay.  
  
Damn.  
  
“I bite yours, Shiro,” I am looking at his face now, forcing his gaze in my direction. I hate when he doesn’t look at me, I hate when he doesn’t explain what’s going on in his brain.  
I hate it because it doesn’t allow me to help him.  
“with care of course. You can fucking bite mine.”  
  
“I just can’t, babe” his sigh unnerves me. His worries about me unnerve me. His mind always tries to find problems, to complicate easy things, to-…  
“It’s my fault.”  
  
I am going to explode. I want to hit him.  
But I let go of his hair instead, palm moving to his cheek, rage channeling far from my innocent lover.  
“It’s not your fault. It’s mine, and it’s not even a _fault._ It’s a choice, Shiro. Just like yours aren’t your fault, too. They are your choice to _live_.”  
  
We already talked about this; he already cried in my arms countless nights; I already cried in his, protected and held by his scarred, wonderful body. I keep repeating him how I love his scars, how every one of them reminds me how alive he is, how lucky I am to have him again, how beautiful they make him. But he always forgets, all he sees is damage.  
  
“Mine are-…” he would like to complain, to badly justify and shame his past, blaming himself, but I am not letting him do this, tonight.  
  
“Yours are _you._ I like your scars, I like you. I like this mark, because it’s similar to yours” my fingers slide from his back, tracing the old wounds, until I place them on my once injured shoulder.  
“It’s me, and it reminds me of yours and of you.”  
  
“I am not my scars, Keith” he sounds angry, he sounds sad. How can a man hate so much himself, the past he doesn’t remember and that hurt him so badly?  
  
“You’re not your scars, no, but they are part of what makes you the man I am holding. The man I love” I don’t even know how I sometimes manage to speak my heart so lightly. Maybe it’s the pain I see in his grey eyes. Maybe I love him too much.  
“I would love you even without them, Shiro. I did it. But my scar doesn’t ruin me just like _these_ ” my index brushes on his nose, following the once deep cut on his face “doesn’t ruin you.”  
  
His head presses forward, lips colliding with mine again. I know he’s thanking me. I know he needs to hear this from me. I know he loves me.  
  
I know he would like to apologize, but I won’t let him.  
“The only words I want to hear from your mouth from now on, Shiro, are ‘I love you, Keith’ and my name repeated in those wonderful ways of yours” I’m smiling on his kisses, keeping him close and hoping my attempt to distract him with bad lines will succeed.  
  
And even if it doesn’t, he’s shyly smiling back, hugging me close while something burns again in the air between us, declaring how he understands, for now.  
  
How I reassured him, and how I deserve his hot hands on me.


End file.
